Highland Vengeance Page 3

  I smiled down at the tiny bundle I held then carefully handed Lulach to her. “Lord Lulach,” I said.

  “Thank the Goddess,” Rhona whispered as the others pressed in to see. “Oh, my lady, how like you he looks. The other child?”

  I shook my head. “Only one survived.”

  Beside me, Banquo stiffened.

  “Oh, my lady,” Tira said, tears coming to her eyes. “I’m so sorry. Such ill-omened times.”

  I nodded, swallowing hard to prevent the tears that wanted to break the surface. I turned to Ute. “Can you put Lulach down to sleep in my chamber, the one I used late in my pregnancy, assuming it has not been disturbed?”

  “It’s as you left it,” Tira said. “I’ve already had the hearth lit. The chamber should be warm.”

  “Of course,” Ute said then took Lulach from Rhona.

  “Thank you. I have some matters to attend to, but I’ll come very soon.”

  “Very well, my lady,” she replied, looking relieved to be headed somewhere where she could rest. Lulach in her arms, Rhona following along behind her, Ute went upstairs, Thora following protectively behind them.

  I turned to my household. “Please prepare what food you can for Macbeth’s party. We’ve come under Macbeth’s care in an inauspicious manner, but we will host him as is fitting in Moray.”

  Understanding, the staff nodded and headed back to work. The looks on their faces were glum. They would do as they were asked but with no joy.

  “Tira,” I called.

  The girl paused. “My lady?”

  “The boy, Eochaid, have you seen him?”

  She stopped for a moment then shook her head. “No, my lady. Not since you went south.”

  I frowned. “If he does reappear, please send him to me at once.”

  “Of course.”

  I turned to Banquo. “My lord, will you assist me with something?” I asked, keeping my tone stiff and formal.

  “Of course, Lady Gruoch,” Banquo replied, his manner strange, as if he was desperately trying to rule himself—and failing.

  I turned and led him upstairs. Wordlessly, Banquo and I went to the chamber I’d shared with Gillacoemgain, the only place in the castle where I knew we would not be disturbed. We entered the bedroom, and I shut the chamber door behind me. Before I could entirely turn around, Banquo pulled me tight against him.

  I wrapped my arms around him, inhaling his woodsy scent. My mind was immediately flung back in time, and I remembered him under the trees, the love of my soul. Tears threatened. This was all too much, too much for a mere mortal woman to endure. I leaned my head against his chest and listened to the rhythm of his heart, its beat deep and comforting. I felt dizzy, and that odd old tremor that sometimes took over me threatened. I felt it shake me from the back of my neck. No. I could control it. I inhaled deeply and stepped back. Hot tears burned, but I closed my eyes, swallowed hard, then held them back.

  Banquo held me by the arms and looked deeply into my eyes. “I never thought I would see you again,” he said then shook his head. “You never told me who you were. You never told me you were the daughter of Boite. All the pieces of the mystery fall into place before my eyes. My Cerridwen, you are Gruoch, Daughter of Boite. Where have you been all these years?”

  “But for the last year I’ve been here, with Gillacoemgain,” I said. “And before that—”

  “An ancient, lost place.”

  I nodded.

  Banquo looked around the room. “I cannot imagine you the wife of such a man.”

  “He was not what people thought. He was a good man.”

  “Your son. He’s such a small thing. And you lost a second child?”

  Did I dare tell him the truth? There was too much risk in it. “Yes. I fled south when the war began. It was a hard ride.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I nodded.

  “The wife of Gillacoemgain,” he said then shook his head. “And the daughter of Boite. I never had a chance. Lochaber was nothing. When I reached for you, I reached for—”

  “Scotland.”

  “And now?”

  “And now I must wed Macbeth.”

  “You cannot!”

  “I must.”

  “No. You will not. It cannot be. I can’t allow it.”

  I stared at Banquo. “It…must be.”

  “But I’ve just found you.”

  “You forget yourself. Banquo, come to your senses. I must marry Macbeth. And you already have a wife.”

  Banquo stiffened. “As my father insisted.”

  “I’ve seen her. That day along the shore, I saw you both through the eyes of the raven. And you have a son as well?”

  “I knew it was you. I knew it. Yes, that is my son. His name is Fleance. Cerridwen, what do we do? Now that I have you, I can’t just give you over to Macbeth!”

  “You must.”

  “I must,” Banquo repeated absently.

  I stared at my oldest love’s face, his dark eyes, his curly brown hair, his strong jaw. I felt the soul inside him. My mind twisted. With every fiber of my being, I wanted to fall into his arms, plant kisses on his lips, and be who I really was. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. My mind was shattering. My hands began to shake.

  “You have a wife and son. I have escaped marriage to Duncan by fleeing to Macbeth. I have a son who is the rightful heir to Moray. You must be the thane, and I must be the daughter of Boite and Lady of Moray. There is no other choice,” I told Banquo.

  “We could run away,” Banquo said, clutching my hand feverishly.

  “I am beholden to Lulach’s fortune.”

  “Forget it. We’ll raise him as a druid. We’ll escape into the strongholds of the ancient faith and disappear.”

  “And what of Fleance?”

  “I’ll bring him.”

  “And take him from his mother?”

  “No… I… I couldn’t do that to Merna.”

  Finally, a name. “Merna. Is she a good wife?”

  Banquo paused. “Yes,” he said then sighed. When he looked at me again, there were tears welling in his eyes. “Cerridwen, what can we do?”

  “We must wait until the next life to be together.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Search your heart.”

  Banquo shook his head. “It’s not right. This is not the path. Cerridwen, I still love you!”

  “And I still love you. But soon I will be Macbeth’s wife, as I was Gillacoemgain’s.”

  “I cannot bear it.”

  “You can, and you must. I must. We will bear it. In the least, we can be together.”

  “Like this?”

  “This something is better than nothing.”

  “We are bound by spirit!” Banquo said, sticking out his hand to show the scar thereon.

  I took his hand, pressing the scar on my palm against his. “Yes,” I whispered, lacing my fingers in his.

  Banquo stared at me. “Cerridwen,” he whispered.

  I shook my head. “Gruoch.”

  “No. My queen. My Boudicca. My Cerridwen. You’ll never be Gruoch to me.”

  “This is the sad reality we must accept. I am Gruoch, Daughter of Boite and Lady of Moray. I am the mother of Lulach, son of Gillacoemgain. You must know me as such. See me in this space.”

  “There are more places in this world than just this one,” Banquo said then smiled.

  “Yes. And in those spaces, you and Cerridwen are one.”

  “Always,” he whispered.

  “Always,” I repeated.

  From outside, Macbeth’s voice rose up to the casement. “Where is the rider? I’ll send word south to Malcolm. The Lady of Moray is mine.”

  Chapter 6

  Banquo left me shortly thereafter. I went to the window. The moon lit up the night’s sky. In the torchlight, I could see Macbeth in the yard. I watched him as he read over dispatches, commanding his troops. A few moment later, Banquo appeared at his side. After the two had a brief discussion, Ba
nquo set off in the direction of the stables. He cast a glance up at me. I lifted my hand. He smiled at me, a distressed expression on his face, then headed off.

  How strange that we would find one another in this place, under these circumstances. Aridmis had once foretold that we would be reunited in the outside world. At the time, I’d hoped that meant we would be married. Now, it seemed, I was going to marry his lord and friend.

  I gazed down at Macbeth. How many times had I seen him in my cauldron, visited him in spirit? He was my raven-haired man. Now, after I’d nearly forgotten him, he appeared. Sorrow swept over me. It was too much to bear. The loss of Gillacoemgain, finding Macbeth, and my unexpected reunion with Banquo…sometimes I felt like the Goddess was merciless. My body was torn and sore from childbirth. My breasts ached, overfull with milk. I felt weary and miserable.

  Closing the shutters, I crossed the room and lit the candle sitting at Gillacoemgain’s bedside. The room was alive with his memory: his clothes, his weapons, and even his smell permeated the place. I lay down on the bed for just a moment, breathing in his scent, a sweet mix of lavender and cedar. In the weeks to come, his smell would dissipate and be gone forever. I buried my face in his pillow.

  “Gillacoemgain,” I whispered. “I loved you.”

  A sharp pain shot across my head, and my body trembled, an odd metal taste filling my mouth. I closed my eyes and tried to force away the tremors that wanted to impose themselves on me. If I let them in, I would fall into the abyss. I tried…but I failed.

  A tremor racked me hard. A stabbing ache blasted across my skull, making my ears ring. I clutched the blankets and breathed deeply, inhaling the last of Gillacoemgain. My body began to twitch. I gripped the blankets tighter, pressing my face into the bed, biting at the very fabric as I was struck violently. I twisted and shook. My back contorted. I could barely breathe. As I trembled, I opened my eyes just a crack, and at that moment I saw Gillacoemgain’s shade reaching for me, trying desperately to help me. I closed my eyes, and everything went black.

  * * *

  “My lady?” I Ute called followed by a knock on the door. “My lady?”

  “Yes… Yes, I’m here,” I said, sitting up. The candle had burned low. I looked down at the bed to see blood on the coverlet.

  Ute opened the door.

  “My lady? Gruoch, are you all right?”

  I looked down at the front of my dress. It was covered in blood.

  “Your nose,” Ute said, pulling out a cloth.

  I wiped my hand under my nose. It was stained with blood.

  “I feel sick,” I told her.

  She rushed across the room, returning with a pot.

  Taking it from her hands, I vomited.

  “What happened?” Ute asked.

  “I don’t know. My head aches,” I said. My eyes hurt. It felt like someone was pressing them out from the inside.

  “I was getting worried. Our little lord is looking for you. Tira is with him now. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’ll be fine now. It’s just… It was too much riding. Too much everything. I’ll be all right now.”

  Her arm around my waist, Ute led me back to the chamber where I’d been staying before I’d gone south. There, I found Tira and Lulach.

  “He’s fussing for you, my lady,” Tira said then looked up at me. It was then that she spotted the blood on my gown. “Oh, my lady! What happened?”

  “Just a nosebleed.”

  Tira’s brow furrowed with worry. She handed Lulach to me. “Feisty boy.”

  I smiled down at the baby.

  “He looks like his father,” Tira added. “I see our lord in his brow.”

  I hated to tell her that there was no way he could look like Gillacoemgain.

  “Thank you,” I said simply.

  “My lady, I asked the other servants. No one has seen Eochaid. He probably ran off when the trouble started,” Tira said.

  “Thank you for inquiring,” I replied. No doubt Eochaid had disappeared, but not to where they suspected.

  I settled into a seat before the fire and set Lulach to my breast. I closed my eyes.

  “Ute, please arrange for our things to be sent to Inverness. And check on the household staff. Some of them may want to come along. We won’t need to keep many servants at Cawdor now, but I don’t want them to be out of work. Any who wish to come may join us.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Is Standish staying on as sentinel? If not, make sure the new sentinel knows that the closed wing of Cawdor must remain closed. No one—and I mean no one—may go there. Nothing should be disturbed therein, just as Gillacoemgain ordered. This is Lulach’s castle now. We’ll keep it as his father has always done.”

  “Yes, my lady,” she said, laying a new dress on the end of the bed. “Can I help you change?”

  “No, I’ll be all right.”

  “Yes, my lady,” she said with a curtsey then exited.

  Drowsy, my head aching, I nursed Lulach into sleep. When he finally drifted off, I rose and laid him gently down on the bed. How sweet he looked, his small mouth working as if he were nursing in his sleep. He opened and closed his tiny hands. His breathing was slow and peaceful. Moving carefully, I lay down on the bed beside him, studying his face. As I looked at his brow, I thought about Tira’s words. The shape of his forehead and angle of his eyebrows was rather like Gillacoemgain. And so was his chin. At least the deception would be more convincing if he did, by chance, have some looks reminiscent of Gillacoemgain. I kissed him on his brow then closed my eyes.

  I must have fallen asleep then because I was startled when I heard a knock on the door.

  “Lady Gruoch?” It was Macbeth.

  Sleepy, I opened my eyes. My head still ached terribly. I rose, adjusted my stained gown, then went to the door.

  “Macbeth?” I asked, opening the door. “What can I do for you?”

  “I apologize,” he said, looking me over. “I’m sure you were resting. We are preparing to leave for Inverness in the morning. I wanted to be sure you knew,” he said, eyeing the room behind me. I realized then that he’d come with an excuse just to see me. I suppressed a frown. Though I was curious about him, about all those visions, I was in no condition for a visitor.

  “Thank you. I’ve advised my maid to get everything ready.”

  He nodded. “I was wondering if I might have a few words.”

  I stared into his light-colored eyes. I realized then that he looked tired. My heart was moved with pity. “All right. Come in,” I said, stepping back to open the door.

  “Thank you.”

  I nodded then closed the door behind us.

  Macbeth pulled off his heavy gloves and sat down near the fire. “Cawdor is being looked after,” he told me. “Your people are being treated well. I saw your maid inquiring.”

  “They are good and loyal people.”

  Macbeth nodded then smiled. “Your little one is sleeping,” he said, nodding toward Lulach.

  “He is a strong piece of life. It’s a lot of adventure for such a tiny babe.”

  Macbeth looked around the chamber. “Is this the chamber you shared with my uncle?”

  The question made something in my spine stiffen. I hated the tone in Macbeth’s voice, the contempt he held for the man I loved. But Macbeth thought Gillacoemgain a murderer, the man who’d killed his father. He didn’t know what kind of monster his father was, and I’d promised never to tell Gillacoemgain’s secret, as much as I wanted to throw it back in Macbeth’s face. “No. I stayed here late into my pregnancy while Gillacoemgain was away.”

  Macbeth nodded, but a frown crossed his face. Clearly, he was not as comfortable wedding his uncle’s bride as he professed.

  Lulach, however, broke the tension. The little babe woke and cried loudly. From the sound, I knew he was hungry.

  “He’s hungry,” I said softly, hoping Macbeth would excuse himself.

  He didn’t.

  I lifted Lulach, pulling
my gown aside to feed the hungry child. He took to my breast at once.

  “Hungry little boy,” Macbeth said after a moment.

  When I looked up, I saw him smiling at Lulach and me.

  “Yes,” I said, looking down at Lulach.

  Macbeth sighed. “He may be Gillacoemgain’s son, but he is still my blood.”

  “That he is. Macbeth, we haven’t discussed your plans for the future, but I came to you knowing the consequences. We will wed, and I will secure your hold on the north. Through me, your bid to the crown will strengthen. I care little about these things. Lulach is everything to me, and he is an innocent. What will you do with my son? Will you send him away? I implore you, raise him as your own. He will never know any father save you,” I said softly.

  Macbeth rose and came to sit on the bed beside us. He gazed down at Lulach. “I’m sorry that after all these years, all those visions, we’ve found one another in such difficult circumstances. In truth, when I was a boy, I loved my uncle very much. I never understood why my uncle killed my father. Even now, it makes no sense to me,” he said then reached out and touched Lulach’s foot. “I will raise your child as my own. And when I do, I will remember the uncle I loved. In turn, I will love his child like my own. And his mother too, if she will have me, in more than just name. I know it will be hard at first, with Gillacoemgain just lost and so recently bearing your child, but I cannot help but believe the Lord wanted us together.”

  “The Lord?”

  “Of course. It was the Lord who intervened between us, showed us our true destiny with one another. We are twin souls, meant to be. How else could you explain such miracles?”

  “There are more gods than just the White Christ.”

  Macbeth frowned. “I was told you were fostered in a convent. Aren’t you a follower of the White Christ?”

  “No. But I have no quarrel with any god.”

  “Then you believe in the old gods, as your father did?”

  “I do, as do many in Moray. You’ve been at court a long time, Macbeth. The courtly ways are not the ways of the people here. You must learn the values of your people.”

  Macbeth chuckled. “So Banquo and Thorfinn tell me. I guess there is still room enough in Scotland for all the gods,” he said, but there was something in his voice that told me he didn’t believe what he said.